Luce IX: The Doomed Brother

It was cold on the roof of the Governor’s Mansion, as it was everywhere else. For all that the walls by the doorway helped act as a windbreak, it still hardly worked as insulation. At least the sloped metal canopy was in place now, the pointed slant ensuring that snow couldn’t build up and risk collapsing the roof. It helped all the more right now, with the cold wind blowing flakes of tiny crystals through the air.

It was almost beautiful, drifting out of the darkness, and it was certainly novel. It wasn’t as if Cambria ever saw snowfall.

Though it’s surely seeing it now.

“You wanted to see me, Luce?” Harold, if indeed it was Harold, had glided so smoothly across the rooftop that Luce hadn’t heard anything until he was standing right next to him.

“Yes.” Luce stepped back from the edge of the roof, getting a firmer footing. “I’ve been informed that you were meeting with Perimont’s old Forresters. Some of the Guardians too.”

Harold laughed. “And you want to know why. Very understandable.”

Hopefully that means he has a good explanation.

“To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure they’d really absorbed the lesson from Perimont’s coup. You disbanded their organization, terminated the employment of their comrades, exiled Avalon’s finest pirate-catcher, and left them alive to stew about it. Some follow-up seemed warranted.”

“Without consulting me? With Leclaire?”

“Well, I hardly thought it was a good idea for her to meet with them alone. Khali knows what she would have tried to pull without someone in your corner to keep an eye on her. This way there were no surprises.”

He’s saying everything he should, but it’s dangerous just to accept it blindly. Unless that was simply paranoia, the product of months leaning on a serpentine sorceress openly planning to oppose him.

“And they won’t make any trouble?”

Harold shrugged. “We mostly asked them just to stand back, stand down. Full-throated endorsement would have been a harder sell. I think they’ll at least honor that much, for the most part.”

Luce couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, even if this was far from settled. Camille’s story still needs to match. “We can only hope so.”

“Ugh, I know. Ever since you read that letter from Father calling you here, I’ve been worried about you. I’ve been thinking a lot about what would have happened if I’d been a few days later.”

“I’m lucky you weren’t,” Luce said, desperately hoping he meant it. “If you don’t mind, wait with Charlotte downstairs while I talk to Leclaire? I might need you afterwards.”

“Certainly.” Harold swept his arm down in a cheeky bow, then turned to go.

“Wait,” Luce said, mind racked by a horrible realization. “You said ‘when I read the letter from Father’, but I never read it. You read it, burned it, and told me the contents.”

Harold tilted his head. “I guess so. Sorry, I don’t always have a perfect memory for the details.”

“Why did you do that, anyway? I couldn’t see it myself?”

“It’s important for security. Burn it, and you block it out from any snooping spirits or sages. Nothing else is really as effective. Simply destroying it still means that they could glimpse it in the past, and burying it in a hole still leaves the words on a page. Darkness leaves traces, but the light blots out all else.”

Now why does that sound familiar? “Speaking of visions, one of the spirits I contracted with said she saw you in Cambria, right now.”

He laughed. “Just goes to show you the value of that, then. Obviously I can’t be in two places at once. Whatever the spirits tell you, the visions aren’t perfect, at least not once they pass through the mind of a living being that has to interpret them. I’m sure she saw what she said she saw, but that doesn’t mean she was right about the timeframe.”

“It doesn’t mean she was wrong.”

“Luce, those visions—”

“The visions! That’s where I heard that. ‘Darkness leaves traces, but the light blots out all else.’ Right after saying not to trust Magnifico because he tried to kill his son.”

Harold’s eyes widened. “You heard that?”

“I saw a lot when I was in Refuge. I wasn’t sure I could trust it completely, but…” Luce rubbed his temples, bracing himself to follow a path that would bring him nothing but pain. “You found those pirates when they came back to Malin with my ship, right? The journals were still running across the water then, and they were clear that you executed every last one of them.”

“Because they kidnapped you! Surely you’re not having a change of heart about that?”

“What was the captain’s name?”

The man calling himself Harold blinked, clearly unable to answer the question. “He probably gave a fake name anyway.”

Elizabeth, according to Eloise, and a defector from Avalon at that. Not something you’d forget.

Luce stepped up to the edge of the roof. “It was a woman. I’m surprised you don’t remember that.”

“There were both, I thought one of the men was the leader. Luce, I’m not sure—”

“Shut up.” Luce kicked a pile of snow from the edge of the roof onto the ground below.

A subtle signal, to bring relief. One intended for Camille, because her turning on me was the worst realistic scenario…

“Is my brother even alive?”

The imposter furrowed his eyebrows, not quite managing to convincingly look confused by the question. “Of course I’m alive, Luce. I’m standing right here.”

“You said you think about that letter from Father a lot, yet you didn’t even know I never saw it. You were so driven by fury and vengeance that you hanged a dozen pirates, yet you couldn’t even remember their leader’s name? How stupid do you think I am?”

The man sighed. “I didn’t think you were stupid, Luce. That was never your problem.”

“Who are you, anyway?”

“I suppose the jig is up at this point. Fuck it.” He whirled around, swishing his cloak up to cover his head. Once he turned around, an entirely different face was staring back. Softer, with blond hair and, somehow, slightly shorter. “You can call me Jethro if you like, but Mordred Boothe is a more precise way to put it, and I know how you love your precision.”

Luce felt his whole body tense, staging in horror at the pretender. “All along, it was you.” I pushed, and this is where it led. As horrible as the truth was, it was always better than living in the delusion. Now that the problem was laid bare, it could be faced.

“Credit to the face stealer for making it possible. I was lucky she had something suitable.” The blond man—Jethro—smiled, unnervingly confident for someone who’d been found out.

And if he really used the Gauntlet of Eulus to get here, he’s powerful enough that that’s warranted.

Fuck!

No wonder he’d been so willing to trust Jethro; he was just talking about himself.

“How dare you impersonate my brother? You lying piece of shit! I can’t believe I thought you actually supported me.”

“Hey now, Luce, I still saved you from that coup. The Prince in Cambria is fine, and he wasn’t the one who came to help you; I did. You’d probably be dead if not for me, by your own admission. And I never lied to you, not technically. I make a point not to, as a personal rule.” He shrugged. “Admittedly, that stuff with the pirates and Father’s letter wasn’t the truth, but that was just a mistake. If I’d known, I would have used that.” He chuckled. “I mean, obviously. I didn’t break my cover on purpose.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re on my side? How could you possibly expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t, honestly. Because I’m not. I tipped off those pirates, after all. Had to get you out of the way for a while, or you could have messed up everything Gordon Perimont was accomplishing here. After that bombing I set up, he was a frothing lunatic, going after supporters like Clochaîne and hanging them by the dozen every week. His soldiers were right there, on the train, armed and ready! If that snooping pirate girl hadn’t shot him just before the moment of triumph…”

Jethro did set me up. Boothe. Whoever. He bombed the harbor. He’s trying to escalate the tensions. Trying to start a war.

And there’s a chance Harold knew about it.

“Ah well,” he continued. “It still all worked out. The King of Avalon’s in a cell, and it didn’t even take a war to do it. And most likely, you’re not far behind.” He threw open his cloak, revealing a crackling metal gauntlet, illuminating the snow in the air around it. “I know you’re not a fighter, Luce. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“I’m not,” he said. “But she is.”

The Gauntlet of Eulus sparked as a large bang echoed through the air, Jethro’s hand getting wrenched to the side when the bullet hit the storm spirit’s artifact.

Charlotte tossed her empty pistol to the ground and picked up another from her belt, aiming it square at the spy. “Next one goes through your heart.”

Camille, standing just behind her, flicked her fingers up and sent piles of snow into the air, rushing for Jethro’s legs.

He sprang into the air with a gust of wind from the gauntlet, narrowly avoiding being iced to the rooftop.

It didn’t get him out of the way of the snow she dropped from the canopy onto his head, hardening to ice as it hit with a painful crack.

“Curse you, Leclaire! Why must you oppose me?”

“I’m sworn to,” Camille answered as Charlotte stepped back and fired another bullet, this time hitting Jethro in his left arm. Not the one with the gauntlet on it, unfortunately. “But I’d do it anyway. You disgust me.”

Jethro roared with rage and pain, flinging his arm outwards and shooting forth a burst of lightning towards the sage of water.

Camille fell to the ground in an instant, flattening herself as the lightning passed above her head.

Charlotte was not so quick, engulfed in a brief crackle before another assault of snow knocked Jethro’s aim off-course.

“Bastard.” Luce ran towards her as Camille dueled with the spy, desperately trying to recall what he knew of medical aid.

The sleeve of her jacket was burned, and she didn’t seem conscious, but she was still breathing at least.

With Jethro distracted, Luce opened the door back inside and shouted for help, desperately hoping that this would all still work out.

He pulled out his knife and cut the sleeve along the seam, farthest from the point of impact.

The skin of her arm was definitely burned, but the damage seemed survivable. A nasty scar and nasty memories but nothing more, hopefully. Hopefully.

“Where’s that fucking doctor?” he called down again.

Silence greeted him once more.

“Prince Luce…” Charlotte croaked, her eyelids fluttering.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Thank fuck. You’re the last person I can actually trust. “It’s going to be fine. You’ve got some burns, but—”

“No… Don’t worry about me…” Her breath was ragged, her voice scratchy. “It’s not over… Don’t… trust Leclaire.”

Even after you fought right alongside her? Even after we uncovered the spy?

Luce felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Luce, he got away. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him. That damned gauntlet… Eulus was consort to the wind spirit herself, his speed is not something I can match.” Leclaire bit her lip, breathing heavily. “I can’t believe he was fooling us this whole time. Lamante’s masks are convincing, but… I’m sorry,” she said again.

Luce flicked his eyes to Charlotte, who reluctantly nodded.

So Jethro did get away.

Luce’s back had been turned, but if Charlotte saw it, then it had happened.

“I’ll have the journals print his likeness, and warn that he might disguise himself as a Grimoire. Nowhere will be safe for him. Charlotte can interview those Forresters he met with again, while I comb through the city. If he’s familiar with explosives, I’m worried he might have left us nasty surprises cached away where he thinks we won’t see them.”

Don’t trust her. Don’t trust Magnifico. Don’t trust your own fucking brother, because he could be a magical shapeshifter that sent pirates to kill you…

“Hold on.” Luce reached down and helped lift Charlotte to her feet, making sure to grab only her unburned hand. “Can you walk?”

“I think so.” She took a few experimental steps, each surer than the last, until a drift of snow left over from the fight nearly tripped her up.

Luce leapt forward to help steady her, then leaned in to whisper into her ear, “If you can make it, go to the Ferrous Ram and tell them to keep the engine running. Have someone you trust row you out. I don’t want to take any chances.”

Charlotte nodded firmly, shaking herself free of his support and marching towards the door.

“Good idea,” said Leclaire, once they were alone. “She can attend to her medical needs and then start investigating right away. The more time we give Jethro to run, the harder it’ll be to find him.”

“She’s already drawn a wedge between herself and the rest of the Guardians, doing that. I’m not sure she even wants to stay in Malin, let alone crack down even harder.”

Leclaire, still panting, had the decency not to look too pleased about that. More confused than anything, really. “The problem is with them then, not her. Why leave?”

Luce sighed, running his hand across his face. “Somehow word got out that she reported those thieves. Apparently tattling is worse than the crime, when it comes to Guardians. They vandalized her stuff in blood, beat her… It’s a fucking disaster.”

“Oh,” Camille said quietly. “That’s terrible. Is that what you called me to talk about, before Jethro…”

“Not really. It was more the fact that you were meeting with Forresters and Guardians without my knowledge. That was suspicious enough when I thought it was my brother there with you, rather than a face changing infiltrator.”

“His idea.” She sighed. “I tagged along because I was suspicious, even thinking he was Harold. It looked like your brother set you up to die, Luce. And Jethro was his man, so that could still be true. I didn’t want them trying to scheme without anyone to keep an eye on them.”

“Funny, he said the same thing about you.”

Charlotte said I’m too good a person to call you on a lie, but I’m not sure that’s true. If you really betray me before the sun returns, and I have the chance to stop it…

Condemning someone to eternal torment, someone who’d been crucial to the spiritual synthesis projects, to arranging deals that had kept the city alive…

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “I explained it to him before the meeting. He stole my motivation to try to convince you he was the innocent one. Obviously that didn’t work out.” She paused, looking out over the city below, points of light poking out of houses with glass. “What gave him away, anyway? Something personal from your past?”

“No… It was nothing, really, just some details about the pirates and my correspondence. Everything deep and personal, he mimicked perfectly… It was so convincing. Even now, it feels like it was really him.”

“He’s a master of disguise, and he found you at a vulnerable moment. Don’t feel guilty about missing the signs when you were the one to find him out. Now we know, and we can only move forward.”

“I suppose… It’s just, that still doesn’t feel right. Our dynamic was almost exactly the same. Not just us, even. I saw it in the way he talked to other people around the mansion. He had that same chemistry, getting them into the same channel he was flowing through. Harold was a master of that, even in the Great Council where everyone is always hiding their motives.”

“He’s charismatic, and Jethro managed the same. Really, it’s not surprising they’d be similar in demeanor. This isn’t worth feeling regrets about, Luce. Be glad he was here to help with the coup, then discovered before he could do any real damage.” She stepped up to his side, looking down at the city of her birth. “What’s chemistry, though?”

Oh, right. “Literally, it’s the study of chemicals. Compounds, molecules, you know. A bit too micro for my tastes, but you need a decent understanding of the basics to be competent in physics.”

“So, your brother liked chemicals?”

“I meant it like the old slang from the College. The Chemistry department always joked that people worked the same way, chemical compatibility, reagents and reactions…” Camille looked stupefied, so Luce tried to cut the jargon down. “It’s a spark, basically. Getting along really well, having a compelling… I mean, most of the time when people say it, they mean flirting, honestly. But it’s a compatibility thing most of all. Most of the time only between very specific combinations of people.”

“Oh, that? I have that with everyone.” Camille smiled. “So your brother’s a flirt?”

It doesn’t seem like she really understood, but I guess it doesn’t matter either. “Of the highest order, even when he’s got other things he should be doing. Jethro seems to have been etched from the same stone.”

“He’s also spent a lot of time with Harold. I’m sure he’s seen enough to mimic the mannerisms.”

“Enough to fool his own brother?”

Camille tilted her head. “Well, for a time. Ultimately, he didn’t fool you. And also, and please know that I say this with all due respect, but you’re not the most socially adroit. It’s possible there were signs you didn’t pick up on before the ones you did.” Honestly, fair. “Moreover, what’s the alternative? You saw him change his face, right?”

“Yeah…” No answers there, then. Nor was Camille’s loyalty really settled. Her answer had been good enough, nothing obviously wrong with it, but…

It’s not enough to be sure. Not nearly.

But where did that leave him?

If she really did betray him, what could he even do about it? The Forresters despise me; the Guardians just beat up the person in their order I can trust the most. Camille’s acolytes were the only remaining armed force in the city. If she wanted to work against him…

I’ve doomed myself, and I didn’t even notice until this very moment. I’ve lost the city to her, whether she’ll still work with me or not.

Now all that’s left is to try to salvage what I can.

“I’ve been thinking. Now that we’ve got the Ferrous Ram, travel between here and Cambria is possible once more. I think you should come with me when I visit.”

“What?”

“I want to give Malin representation in the Great Council. We’re going to be leaning on Fenouille and Cya pretty heavily for a while, even in the best case.” And Avalon’s in dire straits. “We’re taking so much from Malin, it’s not fair to do without giving you a say.”

“You… You want me to represent Malin in Avalon’s government?”

“There’s precedent. The western isles negotiated their representation as part of the union the first Harold set up. In theory, the Territory designation is only supposed to be temporary anyway, though you’ve seen what that means in practice. But I think I can force the issue, especially if the real Harold really is on my side. He could get them to pass a decree that the sky is red.”

Camille’s eyes were wide, her lower lip firmly set between her teeth.

“We need you, Camille. And the spirits, and the magic, and… I need you.”

“I… I have to think about it. Helping Malin in crisis is one thing, but that’s wholly legitimizing Avalon’s control. It’s drawing a line between Malin and the rest of the Empire in Guerron. Between me and Lucien. It’s… I have to think about it.”

“And probably try your visions too, right?” Poke and prod, see what sticks out… Charlotte’s suspicious for a reason.

“I suppose. You’ve seen firsthand how potent it can be to have a window into the past.”

“Or the present, even far away. That’s part of how I caught onto Jethro. Cya saw my brother still in Cambria.”

“Is that so?” Camille smiled. “I’m glad to see you embrace it. I know your first experience was a traumatic one, but it’s an invaluable tool.”

“Perhaps even more than I’d thought… When I was doing it, my thoughts sort of directed the flow of things. Cya, I know, is so good at it that she can basically scry on whatever she sets her mind to.”

Jethro wanted to cover up the words by burning it, but if he was telling the truth, they’d be visible as long as they weren’t burned. I just stumbled upon it, but what if someone knew to look?

“If you had someone write a message down, then had someone else specifically look for it, wouldn’t it let you pass information on asynchronously? You could have two sages in different cities pass messages to each other without dealing with travel or messengers at all. I’m trying to think of a reason it wouldn’t work, but—”

“The reason is human limitations. I have no doubt Cya could pass a message to another spirit of her caliber, perhaps even hold a conversation, but it’s entirely beyond the power of a sage. No human lifetime is enough to get as good as Cya.”

Hold a conversation, huh? Interesting that she would bring that up. “We could conduct experiments, though, and work our way up to something practical. I think even with those limitations in mind, a proof of concept should be perfectly feasible.”

“Eventually, I guess. We have much more urgent things to deal with for the next while, especially if I do accompany you to Avalon.”

“It won’t take long. I actually have an experiment in mind that we could do tonight. I’d only need a few hours of your time.”

Are you betting on my good nature, or do you have more up your sleeve?

Camille clicked her tongue. “Do you really think that’s the best use of our time? With Charlotte out of commission, my acolytes are the only reliable force in the city, and a traitor who can wear the face of a prince is in the wind. If we don’t act fast, we could have another coup on our hands.”

“We have no idea when the sun will return, and until then, long-distance communication is nearly impossible. Solving that problem is urgent and important, yes. I think it’s worth a few hours even now.”

“Respectfully, I disagree.” Her expression didn’t crack; she wasn’t visibly annoyed, but…

She’s pushing back too hard.

Less than scrupulous scientists did this all the time, denying the possibility of something only to emerge six months later with a working prototype and no need to share the credit. They hid the possibility because they had an incentive to, and clearly Camille had one too.

Is it just that she wants to use it later without me knowing about it? Possibly, but Luce would need a sage anyway to make much use of it. Likewise, it couldn’t be ruled out that she just didn’t want word getting around so that someone could beat her to it. But the people who’d benefit from learning that were other sages, and she had to know that Luce had no intention of spreading strategies to them.

The most likely possibility, what fit the best with the facts he had, was that she had already figured it out.

As long as the sun remains gone… The moment it rose anew, she would be free to act as she pleased.

And if she had a confederate in Guerron to relay her information over the visions, a specific time she could plan around…

Something’s going down tonight, just like Charlotte warned.

“You alright?” Leclaire asked, the sweetness in her voice masking the venom.

“I’m fine.”

It’s over.

Perhaps his vision was deceiving him, but Luce thought he even saw the slightest tint of blue in the sky.

Unless I want to try condemning her for breaking her word in planning this out ahead of time, holding those meetings and organizing it all…

It was a way out, a way to maintain some control over Malin, at least a little longer, and punish her for her scheming…

But I can’t do it. Charlotte was right. No one deserved that fate, even a scheming, lying, human-sacrificing, fucking snake.

Luce clenched his fists tightly. “I am a bit cold, though. I’m going to go grab another blanket.”

“Call a servant.”

“I could use the walk. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” He trudged out the door, feeling the weight of his fate crushing down upon him.

The mansion was eerily deserted, his footsteps echoing ominously down the halls. By the time he reached the exit, it was plain to see why.

Eloise was at the head of a small army, each of them armed and ready.

You too.

That should have been the smallest betrayal, the one he ought most to have expected. The cut-throat kidnapper remains scum, why should I be surprised?

He feared for a moment that he’d caught her eye, but she didn’t call out.

Luce backed away slowly and practically flew to the rear doors.

The purple pre-dawn tint was already making its way across the sky as Luce scurried across the city, desperately hoping his stamina would be enough. He realized, halfway there, that he hadn’t grabbed anything from his workshop, not even the spiritual engine refinements he’d been working on, but it was far too late to go back.

Just leave it behind, along with everything else from this cursed city.

If Father really did send me here to help, I’ve only screwed everything up.

Streaks of red filled the sky as Luce reached the shore where Charlotte was already running towards him, pointing at a rowboat in the sand.

“Get in, fast.”

Luce hopped down next to her as she began shoving it out to sea, still breathing heavily from his run across town. “You were supposed to get someone else to row. You’re injured.”

“I’m fine. Just a flesh wound. But, with the sky, Leclaire is freed from her oath. You’re going to be facing a coup in hours if not minutes.”

Luce shook his head. “She planned it all around this. People with pistols were already gathered by the mansion, ready to seize control. There’s nothing for it but to leave. I’m lucky I even made it out.”

“We can still… Fuck!” Charlotte grit her teeth and picked up the oars, shoving Luce aside when he tried to grab one. “This isn’t the end, Prince Luce. She’ll pay for this.”

“Sure,” said Luce, not believing it for a moment.

“Well… We can…”

“We’ll go to Avalon and regroup.” Where Harold might be readying a knife for my back. Where everyone will know me as a failure. Where people are starving by the thousands and my chance at fixing it just disappeared.

“And then?”

Luce had no answer for her.

I’m the Prince of Darkness, betrayed by all and loved by none.

The sun rises, and my reign is over.